The Snowy Lights Of The Playgrounds Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now I am dancing:
Weaponless, armless, here for you:
A peasant who is also a song
In the river-
A rabbit that pants in the ferns, or beside
The houses of the uneasiest alley cats:
And you know that I am wrong,
But I am still here:
I am still here, loving you, and calling for
You-
Even after your washing machine is over,
And the lines of untrue foxes come
To an end:
Maybe they have caught your grapes like
Goldfish,
Or maybe you didn’t let them in:
But there are prizes anyways: the entire
Sky is a midway of prizes,
As you know: and as you know, my
Heart is a fairground with you inside of it
Lit up with all of the beating estuaries
That remember how you, sleeping,
Took on the snowy lights of the playgrounds
And never let them go.